Monday, 1 December 2014

Six months ago, I wouldn't really have believed I would be where I am today. The Spark is a published novel. It's been well liked by those who have read it. People actually like what I have to say.

Nikki's Hope is being released on Friday as part of an anthology, Interwoven, with several other authors from Entertwine Publishing. The Ember (sequel to The Spark) will be released on December 19th. By the end of this year, I will have three works published. I never really believed this would happen, yet here it is. I am a published author.

Sometimes, following your passion takes you places you didn't expect. Sometimes, staying true to yourself brings to life dreams you didn't even realise you had. Sometimes, being yourself is enough, enough to thrill your soul, to bring you joy, to help you heal. Sometimes, being you is the best thing you could ever do. It has been for me.

So share your passions with me. Tell me, what moves your soul? What speaks to you? What makes you whole?

I'm not a professional. I don't know the latest treatments or therapies. Heck, I can't even tell you IF you have a problem, let alone what it is or what you should do about it. All I can do is share who I am and what I live with. Maybe that will be enough to offer you hope.

I don't know you, but then, for a long time, I didn't know me either. I didn't really know who I was, what I wanted, what I needed, or what I couldn't live without. I didn't understand my desires, my passions, or my pain. I didn't know what made me feel, what moved me to tears, or what brought me joy. I was lost inside myself, trapped in an empty world of my own creation. I was depressed.

Depression was never what I thought it was. It took me a long time to admit that I was depressed. I didn't truly understand it, so I couldn't see it. I wasn't sad all the time. I didn't burst into tears for no reason. I wasn't angry, or suicidal. I was no more irritable than any other new mother. I could laugh, have fun, make friends. I had a great supportive husband (still do, in fact). I had my family around me, great friends, a lovely home and a part time job to get me out of the house when I needed it. And I had a beautiful, sweet baby girl who loved to cuddle (still does, in fact). I had a good life, and no reason to be depressed.

But it wasn't enough. It wasn't about what I had. I couldn't sleep. I had little desire to eat. My motivation to do anything was nonexistent. I couldn't keep up with basic, daily tasks. I was always overwhelmed. I often felt like I couldn't cope with simply things, like making dinner. I was lost, trapped behind a wall of unfolded laundry and dirty dishes. I felt empty, as if someone had reached inside me and scooped out everything that made me, ME. They'd left behind this empty shell. The real me was gone, lost. I felt numb and exhausted.

I spoke to a doctor who tried to help. She told me it was postpartum depression. And or a time, I believed her. I wanted to. Postpartum depression, she told me, was actually fairly common. So common that they screen for a mother for it with every child born. It's nothing to be ashamed of, she told me. Most everyone accepts it, and there's very little stigma attached. There was treatment. Medication, counseling. But Postpartum depression was not my problem then. It's not my problem now.

My problem, plain and simple, is depression. Not postpartum. Just depression. The kind that hits you as a child and never really goes away. Looking back, I can see signs of this from the time I was as young as ten. It's been there for at least two thirds of my life. It's not always strong enough to affect me. Sometimes I don't even realize it's around, but it always is. Depression doesn't leave because I don't hear it. It's like a voice that no one else can hear. Sometimes, when days are good, it's drowned out by my laughter, or the laughter of my husband and daughters. But eventually silence falls,and it's still there. That soft, seductive, insidious voice is still there, hovering on the edge of my vision, waiting to be heard.

That voice tells me so many things. It tells me I'm alone, that no one really loves me. How could they? They have no idea who I really am. And for so long, there was no way they could. I didn't know me. But I do now. I have worked long and hard to learn who I am, to see what I need, what I crave, what I can't live without and what I don't want to live without. I've learned about my strengths, gifts I didn't realize I really had. I'm slowly learning to accept my weaknesses, those things I can't do as well or as easily as I would like. It's hard. And becoming myself has cost me a few friends, some I loved very dearly, and I still miss the relationship we shared. Some simply drifted away as our interests and passions diverged. Some are still here, but we're not as close as we once were. I miss them most of all. A few, a precious few, have walked with me. They have watched me become who I have always been, and loved me all the more. And I have found new friends, friends who see me as I am, friends who can know and love the real me because I now know the real me. I have found friends who share my passions, passions I didn't realize I had. I have found friends who support dreams I didn't dare to dream. So now, when that voice tells me I am alone, I reach out. I let those who see me remind me that I am loved, and I am never truly alone anymore.

That voice tells me I am a screw up, a failure, completely unworthy. Sometimes I do screw up. Everyone makes mistakes. I do fail sometimes. Everybody does. No one is perfect. But, despite my imperfection, I am worthy. Always. I am valued. I am loved. And no matter how much a person fails, there is at least one area of your life where you succeed. You breathe. Your heart beats. Your pulse pounds and your blood flows. You think. You feel, even if all you feel is numb. The fact that you are reading this post means you are succeeding at surviving. That tells me you are not a failure. If you can succeed at survival, then you can succeed at living. I know you can. Because as you are, you are enough.

That voice I hear? It has a tendency to whisper the worst. And sometimes, I seek it out. It sounds insane, I know, to seek out depression. But sometimes it's easier. It's safer. When I focus on that voice and it gets loud enough, it drowns out everything else, and I feel numb. I don't feel joy or bliss. I don't feel the thrill of success or the triumph of completion. But I also don't feel grief. I don't feel pain, or agony, or rage, or sorrow. All I feel is empty, and sometimes, that seems like the better, safer choice. After all, who wouldn't avoid pain if they had the choice?

And for some, it may truly be the better choice. You retreat until the worst of the pain is over. You give yourself the time you need to become strong enough to face the grief, the sorrow, or the rage. But for me, and for so many like me, that moment of safety is an illusion. It's a trap that we routinely walk into, and can never easily walk out of. I get lost in that sweet, seductive voice. It's whispers have a way of taking over everything. I've lived in the world that voice creates for so long, that sometimes, it feels like home. When I first started finding my way out, things would happen and I would hurt. I would wonder what was so wrong with me that it hurt. I was so used to feeling nothing, so used to being empty, that I didn't understand why things would hurt like that.

Depression is like the scab covering an infected cut. It may stop the wound from hurting, it may stop you from bleeding out, but it also traps the damage inside. The infection will spread, burning deeper inside. I need to feel, to rip off the scab and bleed, even though it's terrifying, or I will never heal.

I'm not a professional. I don't know all the latest treatments or therapies. I can't even tell you IF you have a problem, let alone what it is or how to treat it. But I can tell you that I have a problem. It's called depression. It's a lifelong battle, one I may never stop fighting. It's also a battle I am winning. I know I'm winning because my heart still beats. I'm still breathing. My pulse pounds, and my blood flows. I am still alive, and I feel. The hurt, the pain, the joy. It's all here. It's all mine.

I'm winning because I know who I am now. I know what my passions are. I own them. I know what I need, what I can't live without. I know what I crave, what I long for. I see myself, as I am, and I know that I am loved. I am learning to love myself, to own who I am. And who I am, is valued. I am worthy. As I am now, as I truly am, I am enough.

Thursday, 4 September 2014

Hey everyone. Things have been so crazy here! My book is released on Monday!! that's just four days away! So much has been going on. I've been working with the editor for The Spark, writing draft two of The Ember, and starting a new short story. Not to mention getting my kids back into gear for school, which started just a few days ago, and trying to maintain a tidy home (that one is hard!).

And there's this cool event that Entertwine is throwing on Monday. https://www.facebook.com/events/485064564929872/?fref=ts feel free to come join us for a release party online!

I'll try to get back into gear after the release party and set up a regular update here. I miss posting here!

Friday, 4 July 2014

I know it's been forever since I've updated my blog, and I know that I REALLY need to get back into the habit of updating on a regular basis. I miss posting here. So, while I can't promise that I'll be perfect about updating here, I can promise that I'm going to make an effort.

I wanted to share with you why I've been away from my blog for the last while. I've been working hard at revising The Ember (book 2 of Future of Flames). I've been really pushing myself to make progress on it, because I've recently signed with Entertwine Publishing (http://entertwinepub.webs.com/). I'm very excited to work with a great team to make my books the best they can be!

So I've been a tad distracted with the thrill of being signed by a publishing company. I've been trying to make sure I have everything ready to go. But just because my books are being published, that does not mean I should let go of my blog. My poetry is still a way I express myself, and I still want to share my musings with you.

I hope this post finds everyone well, and I hope that you come back to read future blog posts.

"Why do I reach for the stars when I don't have wings to carry me that far?"
Roots Before Branches

Just to clarify, from the first time I heard Roots Before Branches, I loved the song. It reminds me to dream, that my dreams are worth chasing, that I can find a place where I belong. I feel empowered and hopeful every time I listen to it. But that one line has bugged me from the first. The singer poses a question; why do I reach for the stars, when I don't have wings to carry me that far?

In a song filled with hope, this one line doesn't seem to fit. I hear it and I feel like I'm longing for the impossible. I don't have wings to carry me to the stars. i don't have what I need to reach my dreams. So why do I try? I was left feeling almost guilty for striving for something I fear I don't have the skills to achieve. I felt like I was wasting time, mine and my families. I've spent months thinking about this question, trying to figure out why I can, and should, reach for the stars.

First, if I reach for the stars there's a chance I may fail to reach my goal. I may fall short. Yet, if I don't even try then my chance of failure becomes a certainty. "The only true failure is a failure to try." (unknown) I know that if I never take the first step, I will never walk the path I want to. If I don't write a single word, my story will never be told. So I try, because trying is the only chance I have. I reach for the stars because I will never dance among them if I don't step out and try.

Last week I mused about the journey and the destination, The Mountains Or The Stars. I mused about how it's the journey that changes you. This is a large part of why I reach for the stars. I may never be able to fly that far, but the attempt itself will change me. I will grow and strengthen myself by taking that first step and writing even just one word. And as I grow and gain strength, I may find that I do reach the stars. I may not have wings to carry myself that far now, but just watch me. I leap off that cliff and I'm carried on new wings. They are there when I need them, stronger than I realized, carrying me farther than I ever imagined.

The third reason is very simply. One of my favourite quotes is "Leap for the stars; if you miss you may still land on the moon." (unknown) So what if my wings don't carry me to the stars. I look around and I see the moon. I see beauty and love and achievement that I didn't think was possible a year ago. My path has changed a lot in the last year; I see a new goal. I'm not where I thought I would be. I am so far beyond what I expected of myself. I'll reach for the stars because even if I don't end up dancing among them, I will end up in a place full of magic and beauty, a place where my dreams are reality.

So whatever your reasons are for reaching for the stars, don't let your lack of wings slow you. Don't fail to try. Take that first step on your path, write the first word of your story. You may develop the wings and strength you need to reach the stars, or you may find yourself on the moon. No matter what, so long as you reach and dream, you can find a way to make those dreams real.

Tuesday, 14 January 2014

"Why would a mob be after us?" Eric says, looking to the old man. I can feel my eyes drawn to Kyra and Anthony. The crowd was after them, and I wonder if they know why. Kyra meets my eyes and nods. She and I need to talk.

"Does it matter?" Malachi says in reply, "They are coming, and we need to leave before someone gets hurt."

The others move quickly to follow him, but I hesitate. Kyra moves up beside me, and I feel the same distrust in her. A quick glance between us, and we slowly follow the group.

We're a few steps behind the others when I hear a sound behind us. I can feel my blood begin to heat. The mob, or at least one or two of them are behind us. Kyra slips her hand into mind, and the sensation of a stormy sea slips inside me. Kyra is angry that the mob has come after us. She holds tighter to my hand and images slip inside my head.

Kyra woke much the way I did this morning, knowing something was different. I smile slightly as she searches the internet and turns on the radio. I remember the frustration at the realization that there is no news to be had, good or bad. She texts her mom and then heads out to work. The cafe where she works isn't far from my college, just on the other side of the park. In fact, Kyra walks past my college every day.

At work, Anthony was on edge, right from the moment he stepped in the door. He muttered to himself all morning, and none of the drinks he made came out right. Kyra had several customers complain that their drinks weren't the right temperature, and some even said they tasted salty.

I glance back at another sound behind us, the sound of a twig snapping. Kyra and I move faster, her hand still firmly clasping mine. A new memory pours into me; I see an iced drink begin to steam and then explode in Anthony's hand as the liquid begins to boil rapidly.

The shock on his face gives way to understanding. 'Magic,' he mutters under his breath.

'What's that, Anthony?' Kyra asks, walking up with a towel. He grabs her by the shoulders, almost shaking her.

'It's Magic, Kyra! That's what's changed. Magic is back, and the world is different now. I can feel it. You feel it too, Kyra; I know you do. Magic is back, and it's here. It's why the drinks won't behave.'

'That's crazy, Anthony,' Kyra begins, but Anthony just waves her off, one hand still grasping her shoulder.

Before Kyra can respond, a nearby customer interrupts. His laughter is cruel and harsh. 'Ha! Magic doesn't exist, old man. You're delusional, and if the girl listens to you, she is just as crazy as you are.'

His buddy beside him chimes in. 'It'd be a real shame. She's quite the looker, but you can't date a crazy lady. It just ain't safe.'

'Ha! She doesn't have to be sane to take her to bed. Just willing,'

Steam begins to rise off every drink in the room. Kyra looks up to see a flash of anger storm through Anthony's eyes. The coffee in the customer's hand explodes, drenching him in boiling coffee. Then one by one, every drink in the cafe boils over. Steam billows out of countless cups, flooding the air. A dense fog suddenly fills the cafe.

I can hear the crowd shouting as their drinks foam and steam. I can't see them anymore though. The crowd is too think. The feel in the cafe quickly turns ugly. I grab onto Anthony's wrist and pull him into the back room by sheer memory.

'I'm sorry, Kyra; I didn't mean to. I just go so angry, I lost control. Not that I had that much to begin with.'

'Anthony, calm down. I can hear them coming, and they sound furious. We need to get out of here. Now.'

Images blur in my mind for a moment. Stacks of boxes and shelves blur with the trees around Kyra and I. Sunlight bursts over me, both in the memory and in real life as we move through a clearing. The memory becomes stronger now, and I let Kyra continue to guide me.

She and Anthony made it outside of the cafe into the back lot. They move quickly into the nearby park, but the mob follows them. A half empty cup of coffee slams into Anthony's back, drenching him.

He moves Kyra in front of him, urging her faster. He's trying to protect her, to shelter her as much as he can. They move through a slight dip in the ground, and the road moves out of sight. Kyra starts moving as fast as she can for the trees in the park, but before they can move a half a dozen steps, the crowd from the cafe surrounds them.

I know this is only a memory, but I can feel the anger and fear in the crowd. They're yelling at Anthony, offering insults and rude suggestions. Anthony just does his best to stay between them and Kyra, but it's futile. They're surrounded.

I feel Kyra's certainty that things are about to go very wrong, when she sees Eric and I break through the cover the trees provide. She knows us the same way we knew her. I feel hope break through her, like a wave crashing on the shore, and she grabs hold of Anthony's hand so he sees us too.

Kyra lets the memory slide then, and I blink quickly, reorienting myself. We've moved fast and our group is close to my college. I glance over at Kyra, grateful for the memories she's shared. I'll have to ask her about them soon, but for now I'm just glad to have some of my questions answered.

I have dozens more, but I doubt Kyra can answer many of them. We need to know who Malachi is, and what he wants. I don't trust him. He says he's just a guide, but that doesn't feel right. I think he's more, but even if he is what he says, what exactly is he guiding us to? What are his plans for us, and what does he get out of all this?

Kyra squeezes my hand again, and I know she shares my concerns. As soon as we get somewhere safe, we'll be asking our questions. I, for one, am not following anyone's guidance if I don't know where he wants to lead us.

Thursday, 9 January 2014

I heard a story once of a young man. In the small village he lived in, everyone believed strength made men important. The stronger you were, the more authority you held. The leader of the town was the strongest man there. The young man was born too early and was never as strong as the others his age. He ate the best he could and worked as hard as he could, but nothing he tried seemed to make a difference.

One day, he went to his grandfather to ask for his help. The old man, who had once lead the village himself, took the young man for a walk. He told his grandson that if he reached the north star, he would be granted a wish. However, the star was far out of reach. The old man suggested the boy climb the mountain on the south side of the village. It would bring him closer to the star and he may have a chance to grab hold of it.

So the young man headed off for the mountain. He climbed for well over a day. When he finally reached the peak of the mountain he reached out his hand, only to find that the star was no closer than before. The young man decided the mountain wasn't tall enough, so he went back to his grandfather and asked how to make the mountain taller. The old man gave him a shovel and a wheelbarrow and told him to dig the dirt.

The young man knew this would be a hard task, but he was determined to no longer be the weakest in the village. He dug dirt, and he carried it to the top of the mountain, only to return to the base and dig more dirt. He dug and carried dirt every day, all day for years. Yet, each night when he reached out his hand, the star was no closer than the first night his grandfather told him of it. Yet, the young man never gave up.

Several years passed and the mountain grew. At first people from the village came and mocked him, berating him for wasting his time. Yet, as the months passed, they grew bored of their games and left him to his digging. Once a month, the grandfather met the young man at the base of the mountains to ask how it was going.

One day, the young man looked at his grandfather and asked him how high he needed the mountain to be. He told his grandfather that the star was still far out of reach. The young man feared he would never reach his goal. His grandfather replied that the star was never really his goal. The young man's true goal was strength.

The young man agreed, but said that the star was his path to strength. If he couldn't reach the star, he could never make his wish. The grandfather took him by the hand and led him to a large bolder. He asked the young man to move it for him. The bolder was heavy and almost as tall as the young man. He reached out and rolled the bolder easily away.

His grandfather looked at him with pride in his eyes. "You've gained your strength," the old man said. "Your goal was strength, your destination the star, and your journey was the mountain. Building the mountain let you reach your goal, even though you never reached your destination."

Now you've set a goal. You decided there was something you needed to do, and you've started the long journey to see your dream become a reality. your goal could be one of a hundred different things; to save money for college or your first home, to lose those inches that are hounding you, to find a way to catch the eye of that special someone, to become the strongest in the land, or perhaps to simply wake up and not dread the day before it starts.

Something happened, big or small, that changed things for you. You started to see the world a little differently, and you decided now was the time to act. You looked at your goal, decided exactly how that destination would look once you got there, and you started building your mountain. Time passed; days, months or maybe even years. You've worked hard to reach your destination, but it's still out of reach.

Maybe it doesn't seem any closer than it did when you first set your sights on it. Sometimes it feels like you are trying to reach the stars, but no matter how high a mountain you build, they stay out of reach. It can feel so hard. No matter how much you do, it seems like you never get there; your mountain never reaches the stars.

Then one day, you reach for that boulder and it moves away so very easily. You look in the mirror and you see the change. Your arms are stronger, your back is toned, and your legs are well shaped. You may not have reached the stars, but you have changed. Your destination is still there, still out of reach, but your goal is in your hands.

Just like any journey you take, it doesn't matter how close you get to your destination, the journey itself still changes you, makes you stronger. So when you look up at your stars, the destination of your dreams, and they seem so far out of reach, and when you look down at the mountain you've built and it all feels so worthless, take a moment. Look at yourself.

Be honest about who you were, and who you are now. I'll bet there are changes. You're stronger than you realise. Look at your mountain and see exactly how far you've come, how much you've accomplished. That mountain isn't worthless because it has changed you. You can still reach your goal, even if the destination you longed for isn't within your reach.

So pick up your shovel and keep building that mountain. One day, the journey will truly bring you to your goal, even if your goal isn't at the destination you first saw. Remember, it's not reaching your dream that has made you so strong. It's the journey that has made you who you are; it's building your mountain that has changed you. Enjoy the ride as much as you can, and let yourself breathe. Your destination will always be there. Your journey only happens once.

Sunday, 5 January 2014

Is my life just a dream? Is insanity my fate? Will madness overtake me? Will pain cause life to wait?

As days pass through my life How can I know what's reality? What if all I ever do Is no more than just a dream? How will I ever tell?
Is my life just a dream? Is insanity my fate? Will madness overtake me? Will pain cause life to wait?

As my future becomes my now What makes my dream unreal? What if all I ever try Is never mine to achieve? How can I ever know?

Is my life just a dream? Is insanity my fate? Will madness overtake me? Will pain cause life to wait?

Wednesday, 1 January 2014

So today is the beginning of a new year; it's hope and life and laughter and fear. No one knows what this year will hold and sometimes that's scary. Sometimes it's hard to face the unknown future and the new year is a constant reminder of that future. Sometimes things happen beyond our control and those are either good or bad. Either way we can't stop them from happening. Fearing the uncontrollable events will only rob us of the joy of today. Yes, it's a new year, and the unknown future is right around the corner. We can't know what's coming, but we can learn to see the hope in it.

2014 will be a year of changes for me. There is a lot that I plan to do, to achieve and to accomplish this year. But it's an unknown future. I can plan all I like; those plans may or may not succeed. But I know what will succeed...my trying to follow through. I am resolved to keep going; I'm resolved to do what it takes to see my dreams come true. I know that I will succeed because even if it doesn't happen exactly the way I dream, I'm not giving up. And it is the trying, the journey from here to there that is important to me. Because while the destination may be beyond my control, I may never see my ultimate goal; the journey itself? that IS mine. Mine to control; mine to decide to walk or to stop. Mine to decide if I turn right or left when the path suddenly ends. The journey is MINE, and I will make the journey. That is how I will succeed, even if my dreams never become reality...because I WILL NOT GIVE UP.

So I invite you all to join me in your own individual journeys. Wherever you're going, whatever you're doing, unreachable dreams or one that's right next to you, make the journey. Get up, walk, make your choices and refuse to sleep the year away. Don't let fear stop you; embrace the hope of a future that YOU walk into. And if you start to fall, reach your hand up; I'll be here to help you along.